He wore a crown, and she
guessed at once that he was some sort of king. It did not surprise her
to see a man with a crown. A man with a church steeple on his head
would not have surprised her, by this time. "Come with me," he said;
"you're wanted at once."
Kathleen followed him to the opposite side of the hall and through a
door, into another room. It was much smaller than the hall, but it was
just as beautiful, in its own way. There was a woman in this
room--another of the beautiful girls, Kathleen would have said--lying
on a gold couch. Her hair was hanging down over the pillow on which
her head lay, so that Kathleen could scarcely tell which was the hair
and which was the gold of the couch. There was a crown lying on a
little table beside her, and so Kathleen guessed that she was the
Queen. "Kathleen," said the Queen, "do you know why they have brought
you here?"
"No, Your Majesty," said Kathleen. She was not a bit frightened, any
more than she had been all along, and she knew that that was the way
to speak to a queen, just as well as if she had never spoken to
anybody else in her life.
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